From a Pair of Silky Lips
by Thousand Faces
Summary: Devlin Anders is a teenage boy, very content with a quite peaceful life he's living. No delusions of granduer and excitement. All he wants to do...is relax. To bad Captain Jack has other plans for him.
1. Prologue

**Note from the Author**

There was once a story whispered to me through a pair of red lips in a dark and smoky pub. It was unlike any story I had ever heard. It made me sad and happy, angry and spiteful, and yet kind and forgiving. ::_Of course,::_ I thought to myself, ::_it's a very nice story but there can't be any truth in it::._ Hah! That's the problem with most adults like me. If anything seems even slightly out of the realm of possibility, we dismiss it as impossible.

Yet, something about the story intrigued me. I felt a burning desire to know if it had really happened or if it was just some silly story told to a wide-eyed youngster. So, I have spent my whole life searching through dusty books, asking the elderly to share their stories, prying into family histories, reading stacks and stacks of tattered parchment, and exploring every record I could get my curious hands on.

Now, after all these years, I have found that the impossible and fanciful yarn is a true and terrifying tale. To prove that what is written in the manuscript is not the imagination of an old and withered man, I give the reader of this testimony these three shards of irrefutable and tangible truth: A black ring, a single gold doubloon and an unfinished letter to one Clarisse. I hope that the enclosed manuscript will not be dismissed as fantasy and never be read. I hope that the brave and cowardly characters in these pages are remembered always. And I beg of the reader to think on this:

_**However improbable some things may seem, the impossible often happens. . .**_

**Your Humble Researcher,**

**W.D. Bartholomew**


	2. Sing a Song of Barmaids

Disclaimer: I don't… ::thinks about it:: Hey! I actually own this chapter!!!! YES!!!! It's mine…my own…MY PRECIOUS ::insert evil cackle here::

Author's Note:

Howdy!! Oh yes indeed, I started another PoTC ficcy (no relation to Desire I assure you) I was really surprised by the responses I got for just the prologue. Made me very happy does happy snoopy dance This is a slightly different genre for me so you might have to grin and bear it until I can get this style down. First non-romance story ye know ::gasp::. So please, REVIEW!!!! Let me know if this is good, if I'm going in the right direction. Let me know if it sux and I need to refocus a bit. Shout out y'all!!

* * *

The boy leaned his head out of his one dusty window, trying to get a better look at the docks. The sea shimmered as each wave came rolling in, the hot Caribbean sun reflecting off of it like glass. He was rather scrawny in appearance for a 16 year old and a few of the barmaids were constantly worried that he wasn't getting enough to eat. He was tall and thin in a sickly kind of way and was remarkably pale. His face was long and drawn out and his eyes, when they weren't covered up by his chin length scarlet hair, were a deep brown.

The boy sighed with relief as a cool ocean breeze blew across his face. The cramped quarters that belonged to him didn't have much in the way of ventilation and were constantly overheated. His eyes flicked dreamily back to the docks, and he stayed at his window, chin resting comfortably in his hand, for quite sometime. The boy was not, as some people might think, dreaming of a life of danger and adventure on the high seas, full of peril and mystery, but was instead wondering how many ships would come to harbor that day.

You see, the boy had seen what a life of piracy led to more often than not; broken dreams, missing limbs, wasted years, and not a penny in your pocket. Far too many nights he had sat and listened to the stories of the wizened old men who sat forlornly at the bar, dreaming of better days. Every pirate with a sad story to tell or money to spend seemed to gravitate to Tortuga. The boy snorted in disgust. Pirates. A lot of good they were.

"DEVLIN ANDERS!!"

The boy was pulled back inside forcefully by the collar of his shirt and was spun around to face his very angry boss, Mr. Reed. "What the 'ell do ye think you're doing boy?!" Before Devlin had a chance to answer, Mr. Reed backhanded him hard across the face. "Think I took ye in so you could daydream?" Mr. Reed slapped him again. "Do ye?!"

"No sir," Devlin replied quietly, wiping the blood away from his mouth for what must have been the fourth night this week.

"Stop being so bloody useless and get downstairs. I want those tables clean before 5 o'clock. Do ye understand me! Or else I'll beat ye so hard ye won't remember the day ye were born!!"

Devlin wanted to reply that he didn't remember the day he was born already, but knew that he would be worse off in the long run. The truth is that Devlin didn't talk much at all. He enjoyed the private conversations he could have in his mind and preferred them to actually speaking. That's why the old men liked him so much. He was a good listener.

With a simple nod, Devlin dashed down the steps that led up to his room and made his way to the main area of the 'Sea Maiden', the bar that Devlin lived over and Mr. Reed owned. It was a favorite haunt of many of the pirates that stopped at Tortuga and was known for its seemingly endless supply of rum and women.

The pub was virtually empty now except for the said women who lived in the few rooms next to Devlin's. They were sitting around chatting, enjoying a few more restful moments before the work day….er, night, started for them.

Devlin looked up at the large clock that hung over the bar; 4:45. _Fantastic_, he thought, _15 minutes to clean…25 tables. Just wonderful_. He sighed despairingly and decided that he better get to work as he didn't have that much time anyway. He grabbed a cloth from behind the bar and began frantically clean the tables. _One…_

* * *

At five o'clock, Mr. Reed headed back downstairs. Devlin had just finished table number 25 and was very pleased with himself. He really didn't think he could pull it off. Mr. Reed came and stood beside him, looking down at the table Devlin had just finished. "Ye call that clean, do ye boy?" Mr. Reed asked quietly.

Devlin swallowed the lump of fear that had somehow gotten into his throat. "Yes sir…I do."

Mr. Reed kicked Devlin's legs out from under him and slammed the boys head against the cold table top. "This," Mr. Reed hissed into Devlin's ear, "Is disgusting." He pushed against Devlin's skull slightly harder.

A customer came in.

Devlin had never been so happy to see a pirate in his life. Mr. Reed pushed Devlin off the table and onto the floor. "Welcome to the Sea Maiden!" Mr. Reed said jolly, stepping over Devlin to greet his precious customer.

Devlin lay there, his head spinning, his eyes closed in pain. A soft hand brushed his red cheek gently. He opened his eyes slowly and looked into light green ones, laced with concern and pity. They seemed to smile when he opened his eyes.

"Hello…" said a feminine voice softly.

Devlin blinked a few times, attempting to clear his mind. "H-Hi," he replied.

A young lady kneeled over him, her ebony hand grazing his cheek. Her hair was long and straight, the jet black strands reaching to the middle of her back. She smiled down at him. "What's your name?" she asked kindly as he sat up.

"Devlin Anders, what's yours?"

"Melisande," it rolled beautifully off her tongue and washed over him like the waves of the ocean, "But you can call me Mel if ye like."

A squat, callused hand grabbed Melisande's and flicked her hand away from Devlin. Mel glared up at Mr. Reed, who was staring intently at her. "Well, well, well, well," he clucked, his voice deep and foreboding as he pulled her slowly to her feet, "What do we 'ave 'eere, eh?" Mel didn't say a word, but kept glaring at him, her eyes holding cold resentment. "You must be the new girl. What's your name?"

"Melisande," she answered, her teeth clenched.

"Oh very pretty…" he said, looking her up and down, obviously not referring to her name. Mel tugged on her wrist, attempting to escape the odious man's grasp. He looked up at her in surprise. "Ye got spirit," he squeezed her wrist tighter and pulled her close to him, "I reckon I'll 'ave to tame ye." He grinned at her unpleasantly. Mel turned her face away, feeling sick.

Devlin shared Mel's sentiment and started making gagging motions much to the amusement of the other ladies, who laughed loudly. Mr. Reed glanced at them before turning a suspicious glare to Devlin who had stopped making faces and was attempting to appear as innocent as possible.

"Boy," barked Mr. Reed, releasing Mel who took several large steps away from him, "Put this on." He tossed an apron on top of Devlin, who was still sitting on the floor.

Devlin looked at it in obvious displeasure. "Did Martha get sick again?" Martha Tapely was the Sea Maiden's head barmaid and always seemed to catch horrible head colds. Devlin was often forced to fill in for her and he hardly enjoyed the stale jokes made at his expense by drunken customers.

"No," snorted Mr. Reed, "Ol' Tom went off and got himself shot, silly sod. Ye'll be tending the bar tonight." With one last glance at Mel, Mr. Reed went back to his office. Saying a quick pray for poor ol' Tom, Devlin stood up and eagerly slipped on the apron and tied it around his waist. Anything had to be better than filling in for a barmaid.

* * *

A/N: Well? Was it any good? Please I'm really _really_ nervous about this chappie. I don't want it to bore you!!!! I love you!!!! ::smoochessmoochessmooches::

You know that little button that says 'Submit Review'? It does something cool if you click it…

Adios Amigos,

T.F.


	3. Poker Face

**Disclaimer: Wow, you know, I still have nothing to disclaim. It's all mine again. Don't worry, Jack should be coming in any minute now….any minute….**

_Author's Note:_

_No, I have no explanation for my delay in updating. Yes, I am sorry for leaving you guys…kinda…_

_Oh pish, here's the story, like it review, hate it leave it, k?_

_MOI_

* * *

In hardly no time at all, night had descended upon Tortuga. This was the time that the city really came to life. People flooded the streets in search of cheap, usually illegal, materials, in search of friends, or just in search of a good time.

The Sea Maiden was packed to the brim with every kind of villain and vagrant imaginable, all talking as loudly as possible, fighting, whoring, and causing a general ruckus.

From Mr. Reed's point of view, it was a perfect night. He stood off to one side, allowing the crowd to move freely throughout his beloved pub and brothel. He watched the customers with satisfied disinterest. Devlin was behind the bar, frantically filling orders for rum and the like, feeling a bit overwhelmed. Mr. Reed snorted. Damn useless kid. His eyes ran lazily over the line of whores, waiting to be picked up by a 'gentleman' and noticed one in particular was missing.

"Oi! Clarisse!" He waved a grubby hand at the courtesan. She was the oldest of the girls at 36 and was the ruling matron over the rest of them. Her wavy cinnamon hair stopped at her shoulders and she nearly always wore it back. Her eyes were a sharp mix of green and brown, which many gents said was one of her best features. She sashayed over to her employer, yelling at several drunks on her way.

"What is it now, Reed?" Clarisse questioned, annoyance edging her voice, "I'm working here."

"Where's that new girl?"

"Who, Mel?" Clarisse took a step back to glance about the room, before turning back to watch Reed. "What do you want to know for?"

"Why should ye care, Clarisse? Now, where is she?"

Clarisse took one last suspicious look at her boss before glancing away. "Last I saw 'er she was taking some customers back to 34."

"'Ow many gents?"

"I dunno, maybe…five?"

"Five! What the bloody 'ell she gonna do with-"

"'Ow the 'ell should I know! I gotta get back to work." With that, Clarisse bustled off, clearly having more important things to attend to, leaving a very confused and puzzled Mr. Reed in her wake. He stood there for several seconds, thinking (not something he usually supported) the situation over. Finally, he decided that as it was his property being sold, and he had a right to know what was being done with it, he might as well take a little stroll over to room 34.

* * *

Mr. Reed made his way up the hallway of rooms that lined the back of his pub, trying to imagine what in the world that whore was going to do with five gentlemen all at once. He supposed a few of them could watch but that didn't hardly seem worth it, well leastwise not to him…

He stopped outside number 34 and listened in carefully. At first he only heard the scrape of wood against wood and the flick of thick paper.

"Give me two, girlie."

"Right there you are."

"I'll see your five and rise ye ten there mate."

"I wouldn't take him too seriously gents, seems like he's bluffing to me."

"Coo, I do believe you're right there, dearie. I'm all in."

"Too high for me, fold."

Mr. Reed stood at the door aghast. He hoped and prayed that what he thought was going on in that room, was not actually going on. He knocked tentatively.

"Oi, must be Jenkins, coming back with the refreshments. Come on in Jenky, it's already too late, we've all had a good look at your cards and we all agreed – it's the worst hand we've seen in a good while."

Mr. Reed entered the room, too astonished at the sight that met his eyes to even articulate properly. There, sitting around a table was four gentlemen, all fully clothed, all sober, and Mel, also fully clothed and sober, playing a high-stakes game of poker. In the pot was already a good 100 gold pieces along with some assorted odds and ends of expensive material ranging from an old watch to an ornate dagger.

Once Mr. Reed had recovered from his shock, he noticed the ring of faces staring up at him expectantly. "Just…making sure ye fine gentlemen was… satisfied with…our, uh, Mel here," Mr. Reed explained slowly, glancing back from the men to Mel face over and over again.

"Oh aye," assured one of the men, "I haven't played a good game of poker in months, I can tell you."

"Most action I've seen in five months," added another sailor, seriously perusing his cards and throwing in a few more gold pieces.

Mr. Reed stood uncomfortably in the doorway, noting Mel's smug smile with animosity. "Right then, I'll…leave you gents to it then." And he tripped his way back out of the room and down the hallway.

The four men and Mel watched him leave and then went back to their game.

"Strange man that," commented one.

"Yeah, strange. Give me three, will ya Mel?"

"Certainly."

* * *

A/N: Next chapter things start to go bad… 


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